The Doctor is In
by sunburntdaisy
Summary: Christy is swept by a flood of realisation to Neil's. In this what-if scenario, she finds what she is expecting.  A variation on 'The Road Home'. Should I continue this story or 'Expectation and Assumption? Vote via reviews.
1. Chapter 1

The Doctor is In

Christy rode up the familiar path, letting Prince pick his way. Her mind spun with the overwhelming realisation. How had she not seen it before? It was as if she'd been searching for something, scouring every room, top to bottom, and looking right at it, but not seeing it.

David was so right, so appropriate, so in love... but none of that was enough. She had tried to believe it, tried to make it enough. After the fire at Dan Scott's, David had kissed her. She'd kissed him back, passionately. And there was _something_ there. But she now realised it wasn't enough.

He was a good man, a good friend. He deserved the truth, no matter how difficult. He deserved her honesty. If she loved him the way that he wanted her to, if she truly loved him, she wouldn't be able to bare the thought of a life without him by her side. She wouldn't be able to keep putting him off. She would desperately seek him out, long for him, confide in him. Her heart would beat for him. But, for David, it was still.

She hesitated, her certainty faltering, as Neil's cabin came into sight. She hoped he was home, or else she would lose her nerve. And then she hoped he wasn't home. Perhaps it would be for the best. Perhaps she shouldn't have come. But she was compelled forward as if she had no choice in the matter. She looked for signs of life. The door was shut. She heard nothing except Neil's horse snuffling in his feed bag.

Christy slid from Prince's back, tied him to the railing. Without pause, she climbed the stairs and reached out to knock on the door. She felt herself begin to panic – what would she say? What would she do? What would he do, or say? Should she flee and say nothing at all, never give him the chance to do something she was unprepared for.

She rapped her knuckles against the rough wooden door and called out, "Neil?" Her voice was quieter than she intended. She listened. No reply came. She knocked again, louder, not trusting her voice, refusing to let her mind answer any of those questions, or consider for a moment how rash and foolish she might be behaving. She refused to think about it, to admit it even to herself. She blocked all thought and focussed on listening.

"Just a minute," his familiar voice called out.

She couldn't bare to wait, couldn't risk losing her nerve, and losing the battle within her mind (and heart?), so she forged ahead, "It's just me," she opened the door and stepped up, onto the step, but still on the threshold, her eyes adjusting to the light.

"Oh, Christy. Is everything alright?" He stepped out of his laboratory, drying his hands on his trousers.

"Everything is fine. I mean, no one is hurt or anything."

"I'm glad to hear it." He waited for her question, or explanation, a reason for this unexpected visit.

"I just wanted to talk to you about something."

He nodded, "Of course." He meant she was welcome, she needed no more excuse than that, he was willing to hear anything she had to say. It was the invitation of a friend, the promise of confidence and equality and honesty.

She wanted to tell him everything, to stride across his cabin and... and what?

He turned to tend the fire, giving her all the time she needed. Free from his scrutiny she finally entered the room. She stood behind a chair, holding onto the back of it, feeling that the barrier between them, this sturdy, hand-made, rustic piece of furniture, would somehow reduce the risk that either of them might do something foolish.

He stood and turned to face her, in one fluid movement. His look of concern faded into a smile, reassuring and inviting.

Without thinking about it, she stepped around the chair. "We're friends right?"

For a moment he looked hurt – did she doubt it? - but he quickly hid the expression and nodded. "What's this about?"

"Is that it?" She searched his face for an answer to the question she was having so much difficulty phrasing. "I don't confide in anyone the way I do in you. Maybe Fairlight – no." She shook her head, looking away. When he didn't say anything, curiosity go the better of her and she looked at him again. "You... you make me angry like no one makes me angry."

His lips twitched into an irrepressible smile. "I could say the same thing." He stepped toward her, "Both things."

She nodded. This was not news to her. He'd told her himself, 'we mountain men don't talk about our feelings easily.' But he did, easily or not. He talked to her, told her the truth in all its infuriating complexity. "And when I'm with you..." this was the hard part, she sighed, "I don't want to be anywhere else in the world." She looked away, losing her nerve. "I know I've no right to say it. I'm sorry, I should go."

"Don't." He stepped forward, took hold of her arms. "Don't go." When she wouldn't look up at him he kept talking, "Isn't love meant to be the answer to everything? Isn't that what Alice is always going on about?"

"That's over-simplifying a little." She looked up at him, "My loving you doesn't really change anything does it?" She knew it to be true but asked the question nonetheless, hoping to be proved wrong.

He smiled, nodded, the smile still growing, "Yes, it does."

"How?" She asked, hanging onto his assurance, his confident smile. That arrogance that had always driven her up the wall was now the most reassuring thing in the world.

"There has to be a way. Right now," he touched his fingers to her cheek, "I feel like I could do anything."

"But Neil,"

"No," he interrupted, pressing his thumb to her lips and shaking his head, "Don't say it. I want this moment, this day, untainted. We'll worry about the future then."

Looking into his eyes, the offer was so tempting. "You want to pretend."

"No, I want to be totally honest. I want to bare my soul and still have you look at me as if..." he shook his head, in disbelief or restrained hope, she wasn't sure which. "I am in love with you, Christy. Perhaps I have been since before... since I thought I was free to be so. It can't be sin to fall in love with someone when you believe yourself to be free."

There it was – he'd said it. He loved her. At some level she'd known, but to have it confirmed made her chest swell, her breath catch. No, she could not be swept away by this. "But now we do know. Loving you might not be a sin, but beyond that... I cannot act on these feelings. You cannot act. And I know how you love to be passive, patient."

He smiled but she forged on, refusing to be seduced by his smile, and those clear blue eyes that seemed to bore into her soul.

"Perhaps it would have been better – easier – if I hadn't come, if I hadn't said anything."

He shook his head, "I would have. I've come so close, many times."

"Really?"

He barely nodded, closing his eyes momentarily, then looking back up, into her eyes, waiting, pleading. The sheer force of his will was undeniable.

She couldn't move, couldn't flee like her mind was telling her to.

He brushed his lips against hers, then waited, as if giving her a final opportunity to leave. When she didn't move, he kissed her again, softly, his lips parted invitingly. It was tender, gentle, until she responded.

Her head spun and she leaned into him, reaching her hands out to touch his face. She kissed him back with soft, perhaps even experimental, restraint. She expected it to end then.

Feeling her willingness, he was undone. He opened her mouth against his own, any kind of restraint forgotten, his hands on her neck, in her hair.

She was caught entirely by surprise, finding herself kissing him as she'd never kissed before. It was a fierce dance, overwhelming and tantalizing, hot breaths and tongues, lips and hands, adoring and delighting.

Then he tore his mouth away, wrapping her tight in his arms, her face pressed into his shoulder. She heard his own fast breaths, and felt them against her neck, making her shiver. She could hear his heart beating and could feel it against her chest. And then her own ragged breaths and racing heartbeat drummed in her ears, on the off-beat of his, thrumming a frantic rhythm. She slipped her arms about his shoulders and pressed her hands against his back, hanging on, all the while telling herself to let go.

"I won't let you go." He loosened his grip on her, taking a deep breath, as if some perfect solution, and with it some self-control and restraint, might be inhaled if only his lungs had the capacity for it.

She forced her muscles to relax, let her arms fall to her sides. She looked up at him, now able to see his face again, and very nearly kissed his swollen lips, but tore her eyes away at the last moment. She stepped back and collided with the chair – that same chair that might be been a safety barrier. Turning, so as to see where she was walking, she realised the chair was too small an obstacle, if a marriage wasn't enough. She touched her hand to her lips. They felt strange.

"Christy."

She took another step before turning to face him. A little distance wouldn't hurt.

"There has to be a way."

"I need to go home, to think. And pray."

He nodded and walked past her to the door, opening it for her.

She followed and then walked past him, descended the steps and untied Prince. Reigns in hand she turned back to him. He was half-way down the stairs, watching her with concern and longing.

She smiled, "I just wanted to tell you that I love you. That's all."

He reached out and took her free hand, lifting it and pressing his lips to her knuckles. He was almost reverent, eyes closed against the reality and complexity of everything except her love for him. Then he lifted his face, opened his eyes, still holding her hand. "I will endeavour," he let go of her hand, as if to do so was an example of his determination, "to be worthy of it."

She mounted Prince and nudged him homeward, looking back at Neil till he was out of sight. She let Prince have the reigns, trot or not, all the way along the familiar path home. Rational thought was beyond her. The mission was in sight before she was able to think of anything except potent memories. Standing on the edge of the river, his arms around her, "there is nothing there that compares with the beauty I find at this moment, on this river," his touch on her cheek, "it's the dance that matters," he placed a wreath of laurel in her hair and smiled, "I want to bare my soul... I'm in love with you," and then he kissed her, she breathed in and inhaled his scent, surrounded by the heat of his body, her mind set spinning by the pressure of his tongue against hers. What had she done? Was that it? Loving him might not be a sin, might not be a choice at all, but today they'd crossed a line. Which line, exactly, she wasn't sure. They'd been unwise, absolutely, risky and thoughtless, swept away... yes. Had they done wrong? By one another? By Margaret? Or Alice? Or God? Christy shook her head, she could see David in the aisle of the school. He looked out and saw her approach.

She couldn't face him now. Forcing a friendly smile, a wave, she rode on to the mission. She stabled Prince and brushed him down.

David found her just as she was finishing. "The children are at recess. Is everything alL right?"

She nodded, smiled, though not very convincingly.

"Good," He seemed convinced, nonetheless. "I wanted to talk to you."

He must have seen her wariness, the twinge of anxiety that undoubtedly gave her away.

"I suppose the middle of the school day might not be the best time," he smiled, "but after school, might we take a walk?"

She nodded, there was no putting this off any more. "Yes, let's. So tell me, where are the children up to? I can take them for the afternoon." The distraction would be welcome.

"Your timing couldn't be better. We've covered bible and mathematics. I'll leave you to it." He gave her a stunning smile, hesitated, clearly wanting to do or say more, then pulled himself away. "I'll come by the school later."

She nodded and let him leave, gathering her courage, her composure. She could do this, she told herself. She could keep going as if her heart weren't about the beat its way right out of her chest, as if the memory of Neil's kiss wouldn't interrupt her thoughts, and as if the fear of its never being repeated didn't turn her stomach.

She jogged up the hill to the school, greeting the students she passed. Inside, she took a deep breath, strode up the aisle. She could do this. She found a lesson and made the final preparations, hoping this might distract her without demanding more attention than she could give it.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I imagine both 'The Doctor is In' and 'Expectation and Assumption' would continue pretty much along the same lines, which is why I only intend to continue one of them. On top of which, I'd rather commit to something I have the time and resources to complete. Whichever you preferred, imagine its continuation is as follows...

From Chapter 3 onward, I will only be posting under 'The Doctor is In' (it won by a fraction, but its my favourite).

They walked toward the lake without speaking, both nervous, afraid even.

David stopped at the far jetty, turned, looked back. "I never expected this place to feel like home."

"It's strange isn't it. Sometimes I think I am an entirely different person from that girl who stumbled up the steps in a storm."

"And into my arms." He looked at her, searching for the answer to the question he was about to ask. "You made it home. You could make anywhere home, for me."

She swallowed. This was going to be even harder than she'd expected.

"Will you?" He fished in his pocket and pulled out a velveted box, hiding it in a clenched fist. "Here or anywhere, will you come home to me, share my home? These past two years, working together, living together; I can think of nothing I desire more than to share all of life with you, Christy."

She sighed, turning slightly so as not to face him fully.

He held the ring box open, offering her much, much more than a ring, and waiting.

"I don't think I'll ever want to leave this place." She began.

He waited.

"These past two years have been the most difficult and most rewarding of my life. I have known friendship and purpose and I never could have remained this long if not for you, David."

He nodded, and waited.

"We would be content together, maybe happy. But David, I'm not in love with you. You deserve much, much more."

He snapped the ring box closed and walked away.

She watched him go then turned back to the lake, breathing deep. He would be all right, she hoped, God, let him be all right. Be his comfort. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt him, I just don't know what to do. She knelt down on the rough wooden boards. They reminded her of the chair at Neil's that easily-surmountable obstacle. The thought of Neil and she was racked with guilt. She pressed her fists into the gnarled planks. The pain felt right, deserved. She groaned in frustration and let herself cry. There was no avoiding it, and better here than in the mission house, overheard by Ruby Mae, or Alice, or even David.

When she returned, she'd missed Dinner. Alice was sitting outside, waiting for her.

"I was beginning to worry." She confessed.

"I'm sorry."

Alice shook her head. "You're not in trouble, Christy."

"Oh, Miss Alice."

Alice stood, reached out.

"Is David all right?" Christy hesitated, feeling unworthy of the comfort Alice offered.

Alice lifted her eyebrows. Of course David wasn't all right. She needn't even say the words.

"I am certain I've made the right decision, and yet I feel so guilty."

"Ease is no indication of virtue. I'd venture the opposite is more often the case."

Christy sighed and stepped into Alice's embrace.

"Give it time. Give David time, and yourself."

Christy nodded into her shoulder, clinging to her as the tears returned.

Miss Alice rubbed her back and kissed her hair. "Oh, my dear girl."

"Thank you." Christy sobbed and gradually calmed down.

Without another word, Alice led her up to her room. "Try to sleep."

Christy nodded. "He's not going to leave, is he?"

"David?"

Christy bit her lip.

"Perhaps it is what God wants. But David's path is out of thy hands, Christy. Leave that burden in the hands of one who can hold it." Alice backed out of the room and closed the door.

Christy sat heavily on her bed, then flopped back. Her head and eyes ached from crying, her legs ached from kneeling on cold, hard ground. Laying back on her bed felt so good. The tension seemed to seep out of her and she slept.

David disappeared into his work, barely appearing for meals. Christy followed suit. It was all she could do. Come Friday she was exhausted, but classes had gone ahead without any major dramas, had distracted her from thinking of the two men in her life, for most of each day, and now she tidied the classroom, trying to stretch out distraction for just a little longer.

Once that was done, she took out her planner and started writing up monday morning's first lesson on the blackboard. She could turn it around and put it out of the way for church on sunday, but it would be such a good start to next week.

She heard a horse approach, and a minute later, familiar footsteps outside the school. Too familiar. She didn't even turn from her work.

Neil walked up the aisle. "You're working awfully hard for this late on a Friday."

"I wanted to get a head start on next week." She turned ever so briefly, caught a glimpse of him, still approaching her, and turned back to the blackboard, only to find she'd completely lost track of what she was in the middle of writing.

He came right up behind her. She tensed. He kissed her neck. She broke the chalk.

"Someone will see." Her voice faltered.

"There's no one around. I checked."

Why was she out of breath? She put the chalk down and, determined to be cautious, to convince Neil to be cautious, she turned around.

He was so close.

She stepped past him and went to her desk. Something there might help her to finish monday's lesson. "Maybe we shouldn't do anything that requires sneaking around."

"I wasn't sneaking Christy. I just happened to notice the place was deserted. Accuse me of being an opportunist if you like."

She turned to face him, sighed, smiled. "I wasn't accusing. What brings you here?"

"I have a letter from Margaret, for Alice."

Christy hesitated, then nodded, fearing for Alice's peace of mind, or heart. It was much closer to heart when it came to her daughter.

"I'm sorry." He sighed heavily. "I just wanted to be sure Monday wasn't some kind of hallucination."

He was rarely less than entirely certain of himself. It was a testament to the turmoil and reassured her that her own struggle was warranted. "I keep forgetting." She leaned back on the desk, "and then remembering."

"And then stopping in my tracks." He added, stepping closer.

"And then fumbling to cover myself." She looked him in the eye. "One moment I'm so happy and the next in a panic of helplessness. I feel like a fool, and then more alive than ever, and then a fool again."

"You're not a fool."

"I told David I can't marry him."

He tried not to grin and his efforts were obvious. "That doesn't make you a fool."

She shook her head, closed her planner, and walked to the blackboard.

Neil moved to help her and they turned it around, placing it in an out-of-the-way corner.

"Thank you." She stayed holding the board.

"I can go if you want me to. I'll make myself scarce, if that would make it any easier for you." He stood at an awkward distance.

"What about you?" She let her hands drop to her sides, straightened her skirt.

"What's easy and what's right aren't very compatible are they?" He sat down on one of the desks.

She stepped toward him, stopping before she got too close, afraid of what she, or he, might do, given the opportunity. "Don't disappear Neil. I couldn't bear it."

He looked up at her, just out of reach, and swallowed. "Well, it's good to know I wasn't hallucinating. Very reassuring."

She smiled. "Unless we both dreamed up the same reckless..."

He stood and the space between them was no longer a safe distance.

"Neil," she warned, weakly.

"I won't." He looked at her like he very much would – would kiss her any moment.

"Because I'm not sure I wouldn't."

"That makes it easier." He glared at her.

"I'm sorry. I seem to have broken some kind of stop-gate between us and now I'm not sure that the tiniest nudge won't undo me entirely."

He forced himself to walk away, put some distance between them. "You've no idea how tempting the prospect."

"I might have some idea."

He couldn't help but smile at that, the ever-charming notion that she found him tempting. "I'd better go."

She almost shook her head, but stopped herself. A concise nod was beyond her.

He turned to go.

"Wait," She stepped forward, stopping at the first desk in her path.

He stopped but didn't turn back.

"Don't test me, Christy. I'll fail."

"I'm not. I only meant to offer the same courtesy you offered me."

He turned back, curious and confused.

"Would it be easier, for you, if we didn't see each other for a while."

He cocked his head to one side, an irrepressible smile on his lips. "It would be easier not to accidentally kiss you. But everything else would be more difficult. I don't think you realise the light that you've brought – I know I'm not the only one graced by it, but I think I must be the most affected. Perhaps I was further into the dark than everyone else, or perhaps you just shine brighter to me." He seemed astonished at his own openness, stopped himself, and then began again. "What I mean to say is that your friendship is more precious to me than any of these far off dreams of some kind of future together. I only hope that one day its safe to bet on the dreams, but for now I'll put it all on your friendship."

She was moved and didn't notice the tears spilling onto her cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I should go."

She watched him go then realised she was crying. Swiping at her cheeks, she quickly tidied away the last of the school things. She sat on the school house steps and watch the last of the dusk fade into dark, until she heard Neil's horse depart. Picking up her lunch pail, she made her way back to the mission house.


	3. Chapter 3

A second imploring letter from her mother did the trick. Christy went home for thanksgiving. She took two weeks, on Alice's suggestion, and returned in time for the first snowfall. To her surprise, David met her at the station in El Pano.

"How was Ashville?" He strapped her bags to Prince.

"It was a nice break. Cinnamon buns for breakfast and indoor baths and endless cups of tea."

"You missed us didn't you." He helped her up.

She laughed. "I did."

He hoisted himself onto the other horse and led the way forward.

"Thank you for coming to meet me. I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it."

She watched his back, wondering how he was doing but feeling she had no right to ask. "How was thanksgiving in Cutter Gap?"

"Short of cinnamon buns. But there was Turkey," he laughed, "and possum to fill our bellies. I wasn't the only one to save the turkey for last."

It was good to hear him laugh again. "How has the weather been?"

"The snow hasn't settled till today. Your timing is perfect."

"My timing had more to do with how long I can bare it under the same roof as my mother."

"You weren't getting along?"

"She forgets I've been living alone for so long, but then I don't help matters, reverting to sensitive, school-girl moods and probably being ungrateful for all her efforts at welcoming me home. I always get the feeling she's trying to talk me out of returning to the cove."

"I wouldn't blame her too much for that."

"Did you mother try to talk you out of working and living here?"

"She was displeased, with the distance, but she didn't try to dissuade me. I suppose its hard to argue with a calling."

"Where as I just teach school."

"That's not what I meant."

"No, but that's probably what our mother's think."

They rode on a little bit.

Christy spoke up first. "So how's everyone in the cove? Surely I missed something in two-weeks. Is everyone well?"

David took his time to answer. "Doctor MacNeil's gone to Atlanta."

Christy was glad he couldn't see her face. Atlanta? Margaret had gone to Atlanta? Why had Neil gone after her? That had to be it. He wouldn't have gone to Atlanta for any other reason. But why would he go? Not to reunite, surely. Had something happened? Had he gone to help her, to save her? To bury her? "How's Miss Alice coping?" Christy asked.

"She doesn't say much about it."

"Does she know?"

"She knows MacNeil's gone."

Christy wouldn't ask more than that. Not of David. She'd be back at the mission in less than an hour. She could gauge the damage herself, ask Alice if she dared, and undoubtedly hear Ruby Mae's side of the story whether she wanted to or not.

They got back just as the sky lit up with a brilliant sunset. The perfect welcome home, Christy thought, unpacking her case and gazing out the window for long stints between folding her clothes and putting them away.

Alice welcomed her home with smiles and open arms, then turned quiet. She jumped out of her seat when there was a knock at the door.

"Howdy Ma'am." Ben Pentland's familiar voice carried across to the dining room, where everyone was shamelessly eavesdropping. "I just been past Hattie McKay's. She ain't well and Mr Scott asked me to come and fetch ye."

"What is it?" Alice started preparations to leave and

"She's runnin' a fever and breathin' funny. I hope you make it in time."

Alice burst into the dining room, dressed to go, her satchel swinging from her shoulder.

David stood. "I'm coming with you Alice. I'll be ready in a moment."

Next Ruby Mae stood, "I'll wrap up some dinner for Mr Scott."

"Thank you, Ruby Mae." Alice nodded. "Christy, can you make a telephone call to Atlanta?"

Christy's eyes widened. Then she nodded. She hoped she could get through to Atlanta, negotiate her way through operator after operator. "Do you know where in Atlanta?"

Alice paused then left the room. Christy cleared away the dinner things until Alice returned, holding a letter. "I never opened it. Even now, I cannot. But you can. Margaret's address might lead you to Neil. Hattie's his only family now."

Christy nodded. She took the letter, waited for Alice to leave, then broke the seal. Margaret's address was at the top, saving Christy the need to read the letter. Relieved, Christy picked up the telephone.

"Operator? I need to speak to someone in Atlanta."

"I can put you through as far as Knoxville."

"Thank you." She took a deep breath. This might not be as impossible as she feared.

"How may I help?"

"Oh, I need to speak to someone in Atlanta." She heard noises down the line, and then,

"This is the Atlanta telephone exchange, how may I help you?"

This was the hard part. "I have an address in Atlanta. Can you tell me if you're able to connect me? I don't have the number."

The operator's sigh was unmissable. "Of course. What is the address?"

Christy read it out. Half an hour later, and several mis-connections, she had left a message without any certainty Neil would ever receive it. She hung up the ear piece and sat down on the mission house steps, and prayed.


	4. Chapter 4

First thing in the morning, Christy decided to take a basket over to Hattie's. Alice had not returned and might need supplies, or at least some sustenance. That was the reason Christy gave herself, but in truth, the curiosity was killing her. She had to know how bad Hattie was.

She wrapped her jacket around her and picked up her basket, ready to go, when the phone rang.

It hadn't occurred to her that Neil might call. She had assumed she would be waiting for his arrival, all day, and probably tomorrow, never knowing if he were coming at all.

She put down the basket and picked up the receiver. "This is is Cutter Gap mission."

"Christy?" Neil's familiar voice came down the line.

"You got my message?"

"In the middle of the night. I'm getting on a train in a few minutes. I'll get in at El Pano late tonight."

"Oh, good."

"How bad is she?"

"I don't know. Miss Alice went right over last night and she hasn't come back. I was about to leave when the telephone rang."

"I'm glad I caught you. I want you to tell Aunt Hattie something."

"But you'll be back tonight."

"I hope to be." He paused, waited.

"All right."

"If I'm not going to make it in time."

"I know." She didn't want him to articulate more than necessary. "What do you want me to say."

He didn't say anything.

"Neil? You all right?"

"I believe."

She wasn't sure she'd heard him right, but didn't dare speak, for fear of making him lose his nerve.

"She'd want to know." Christy's silence made him wonder if she'd heard him, if she'd understood. "It'll make her so happy."

She didn't know what to say. She wasn't expecting anything like this.

"Christy, say something."

"I'm sorry. I... you believe."

"I do." He laughed, "I was lost. Now I'm found."

"Neil, don't joke about this."

"I'm entirely serious."

"Oh."

"Will you tell my Aunt Hattie? If the time comes."

"Of course. But Neil,"

"Yes?"

"God speed."

"Thank you."

"When does your train leave?"

"Soon. It's good to talk to you. I..."

"I missed you too." She was bold, knowing their conversation would be cut off by a train whistle at any moment.

"I'll see you soon."

"Goodbye." She reluctantly hung up the receiver. It took her a minute to remember her mission – her loaded basket and loaded message. 'I believe.' The words, coming from his lips, reverberated in her head all the way across the mountain

As Christy arrived she saw Daniel step out of the cabin, Miss Alice on his heels.

"There's nothing you can do, Daniel. Take a minute."

Daniel glared at her then turned. He saw Christy and barely paused before walking off into the trees.

Alice waited for her to get closer.

Christy couldn't wait, "How is she?" Not until she stepped up onto the porch did she get an answer.

"She's very tired. It's not a severe case but she isn't getting better yet."

"What is it?"

"Probably influenza, but I'm afraid its progressing to pneumonia. Is Neil coming?"

"He's on a train. He'll arrive late tonight."

Alice nodded. "Well done." She put her arm around Christy, squeezed her shoulder. "She's sleeping now."

Christy followed Alice inside.

Hattie looked small and frail in her bed, generously surrounded by quilts and blankets. David sat beside her and stood when Christy entered.

"I should probably head back to the mission. Someone should be there." He left.

"Will Neil get here in time?" Christy whispered, the doctor's words still echoing in her mind.

"I think so."

Christy nodded and put her basket on the table.

Hattie woke in the afternoon and Alice seemed pleased with her progress. Hattie was glad to see Christy and talked as if this were a regular visit.

She tired quickly and wouldn't eat or drink much. She slept again, and when she woke she was worse; agitated and struggling to breath deeply. Alice and Daniel helped her to sit up. Christy stood by, feeling helpless and willing Neil to arrive sooner.

"What about a poultice? With onions or..." Christy suggested, drawing on the spattering of medical knowledge she'd picked up in the time she'd spent in the mountains.

"It can't hurt." Daniel was restless to do more.

Alice nodded.

Christy was glad to be working. It made the time go faster.

The onions didn't seem to make a lot of difference. Hattie stopped getting worse but she wasn't improving.

Alice and Daniel discussed the case in hushed whispers and Christy went to sit with Hattie, taking her hand.

"Neil?" The older woman asked, not opening her eyes.

"He'll be here soon."

Hattie nodded, focusing on her breath.

"I talked to him this morning." Christy kept talking. "He was about to get on a train. We spoke on the telephone. He said he would arrive tonight. He'll be here any time – soon."

Hattie nodded again.

"He wanted me to tell you something."

She opened her eyes, waited.

"He believes." Whether for her own sake, or Aunt Hattie's, she felt she needed to say it again, "He found his way back. He believes."

She smiled, gripped Christy's hand. "Thank you."

Christy watched her, uncertain how she might respond to the news. She feared Aunt Hattie might give up the fight now, knowing she could go in peace. "He'll be here soon."

Hattie lay back. "Thank you Christy."

It wasn't thanks for passing along good news. It was more than that.

"It wasn't me. I didn't even know."

Hattie patted her hand.

Hoofbeats and footsteps preceded the subject of their conversation into the room. He stopped on the threshold and breathed a sigh of relief before stepping into the room.

"How are ye feeling Hattie?"

She held out a hand, opening her eyes.

"Let's sit you up a bit more." He moved in to help and Christy took the other side, watching Neil for instructions. He smiled at her, then focussed on Hattie.

It was a long night. Neil sent Dan for supplies from his cabin, talked to Alice about the progress, and sat with Hattie, waiting.

Christy got out of the way. She made a late supper and chopped more onions, just in case, and then watched. Neil sat at Hattie's side, holding her hand, their conversation hushed. It felt like an intrusion. So she went outside. She wrapped her jacket tightly around her, but it didn't keep the cold away for long.

"There you are."

She turned. Neil closed the door behind him. "She's asleep."

Christy nodded and moved to stand. She was tired and standing took a bit of effort.

Neil came to her side, took her arm and helped her up. "Are you all right?"

"Just tired," she looked up and smiled to reassure him. "You must be exhausted."

He ran his fingers through his hair. "I got some sleep on the train. But I've been better." He sat down in a chair on the porch.

"Can I get you anything?" She hovered nearby.

"Sit with me."

She hesitated but she would not, could not, refuse him. Sitting beside him, she felt the warmth emanating from his body, felt its pull, and shivered.

Neil looked at her face, then her hands in her lap. He reached out and tentatively took hold of one. "It was the strangest thing, coming home. I felt this unbelievable peace, knowing you were here with her."

She smiled, "God?"

He shook his head, "Well, perhaps, but it was more than that. You were here and it was as if – as if you and I are -"

She nodded, "Connected."

He squeezed her hand. "We should go inside. You're cold."

"It'll be light soon," she stood and followed him.

"I'll build up the fire again."

"I'll make some tea."

They went inside, went to work.

Miss Alice was sitting in a chair near the end of Hattie's bed. She looked up on their entry. Her initial concern was replaced by a gentler interest, as she watched them work, their growing intimacy evident.

The three of them drank their tea and waited. Christy dozed off, cup still in hand. She snuffled and snored, then was quiet again. Neil and Alice watched her.

Alice turned and looked at Neil. A slight smile graced his lips, but combined with the joy in his eyes, it stopped her in her tracks. "What happened in Atlanta?" She whispered.

He tore his eyes from Christy. "She's fine. She has a job, a place to live. She'll be fine."

"She said she was in some kind of trouble."

"Her debt's paid."

Alice let her shoulders drop, wishing they really could be free of Margaret – that both of them could be.

"I'm sorry, Alice. I don't think she'll come back again."

"For me? No. Maybe for you."

He shook his head. "She's agreed to a divorce."

Alice gaped.

"It's time to move forward." He nodded, as if still trying to convince himself. "Life is a gift."

"You mean Miss Huddleston."

He looked her in the eye, then sighed. "She has been – is – a gift. To all of us. And, yes, to me, perhaps most significantly. I don't know."

"But she has not been given to... us."

"Hasn't she?"

"Who gave her?"

"God."

Alice's expression was priceless.

He smirked.

"Neil?"

"In Atlanta I gave up. After another argument, I just gave up. I had nothing left to give."

Alice nodded. She'd been there.

"I left Margaret and walked for hours. And then, instead of giving up I gave it over to..." he looked up. It was fresh, too fresh to talk about with ease. "I went back and," he shook his head, disbelieving, "I don't know how it happened, but we resolved things between us. And then, that night, I got Christy's message."

"Does she know?"

He nodded. "Not about the divorce."

Alice watched him, amazed, wondering, waiting for the words. "It won't be easy – for me. But I won't stand in your way."

Neil was about to defended himself, but saw it was pointless. He gave one small nod and then stood and went to check on Aunt Hattie.


	5. Chapter 5

Hattie was eating when Christy woke. She was sitting up and Alice was helping her with some broth and cornbread. Neil was no where to be seen.

Christy went outside to look for him. He was sitting on the edge of the porch, leaning on a post, shoulders slumped. He had one knee up and rested his elbow on it, his head hanging heavily against his hand.

Christy watched him for a moment, then approached.

He looked up at her, then turned back to where he had been staring out into space.

She sat down beside him. "She seems better."

"Yeah."

"Is there something I don't know about?"

"No, she's improving. I think she'll recover fully. You can probably go home this afternoon. I'll stay for another night or two – don't worry, I'll sleep."

Christy nodded, waited for him to explain his evident melancholy, or to find the words herself, to ask.

He sighed, desperately trying to reign in his emotions.

"What's wrong?"

He rubbed his forehead. "I am utterly alone."

She was confused but didn't speak, hoping he would say more.

"She won't live forever, and then I'll have no one."

Oh. Christy nodded slowly, understanding.

Neil shifted and sat on his hands, his body language shutting her out.

"What happened in Atlanta?" She took a stab in the dark.

He looked up, turned, and leaned back on the post, folding one leg in front of him. "Margaret needed money." He sighed, "She agreed to a divorce. In the end."

"In the end?"

"We fought and I left. I gave up. I wasn't going back, I don't even know if I was coming back here. I suppose I would have, eventually."

She watched him, worried, "Then you got my message?"

He shook his head. "No. I walked around the city for hours, got utterly lost. It started raining and I hid out in a church."

Christy raised her eyebrows, her expectations clear.

"I couldn't bear it. It was so strange. It was pouring outside, but I had to get out of there. So I asked for directions and walked back to the hotel. But while I was walking, I started this sort of monologue in my head. And then I was praying."

She restrained a smile.

"I don't know how to explain it."

"You don't need to."

He nodded, a little relived. "After that, I spoke to Margaret again, and it all just fell into place. I said I'd pay her debts, but that would be the end. And she offered a divorce – to admit fault, everything."

Christy waited, waited for the reason he looked haunted.

"And then I got your message – and the rest you know."

She looked confused. "I don't understand."

"What?"

"Well, isn't this a good thing? You long to be free, and now you will be."

He shook his head. "I'll be divorced, Christy. It's not the same thing."

"Neither is it an unforgivable sin. Margaret's admitted to..."

He smiled ever so slightly at her hesitation. "Adultery."

She sighed. "I know, for years, you've been thinking the worst of religion, of the bible and all of it. But it's not a list of lines in the sand, of heartless rules."

"I don't want to drag you into this. It might not be black and white, but it's a darker shade of grey and I don't want you to regret... I couldn't bear it."

"You imagine I'm going to give you up now? Just walk away?"

He couldn't tear his eyes from her.

"You're _not_ alone."

He cocked his head to one side. He looked sad, afraid to hope.

She leaned forward, held her outstretched fingers against his cheeks, and pressed her closed lips firmly against his, then rested her forehead against his.

He grazed his fingers against her neck, inhaling, eyes closed, savouring her closeness. "How can you be sure?"

"I think God is more generous than any of us can imagine."

"He's hardly famous for his apathetic attitude to morality."

"He's famous for forgiveness."

"So, I'm supposed to do what I know is wrong, all the while planning to beg forgiveness later. I might be rather new to this, but I won't be a hypocrite."

"You're not doing anything wrong, Neil. Your marriage is over – any wrong has been done. It's too late, isn't it?" She wondered for a moment, pulling back.

He nodded certainly.

"You want to believe in a god that would punish you indefinitely, insist you live alone in your cabin till the day you die?"

"Of course not."

Christy took his hand, "I can't tell you what to believe. You have to do what you think is right, but so much has happened in the past few days. Perhaps, once the dust is settled..."

He looked at her hand, cradling it in both of his like a precious treasure. "I want to deserve you. I'm not certain I'd be able to let you go."

"Assuming I would let you..."

"Scare you off? You'd be long gone, wouldn't you, by now?"

She smiled. "You're not as terrifying as you think."

He held his hand to her cheek and pressed his thumb in strokes along her cheek bone. "Sometimes I think you must be a figment of my sleep-deprived imagination. But you are real, and so... unlikely. So hope-restoring. And faith-restoring. You don't know the difference that your friendship has made."

She wrapped her hand around his, against her cheek, then turned her face to kiss his palm. "Arguing with you, bullying you into doing things you don't want to do,"

"Well, now that you mention it," he grinned.

It was so good to see him smile.

He turned serious again, "Your intentions were always good. I'd be a fool not to admit you were right more than once. On top of which, I can hardly blame you for our uncanny ability to argue – not entirely. I know I'm not the easiest man in the world."

She shook her head, a cheeky smile teasing on her lips.

He looked at her mouth, so close, and he was so close to giving in. He was tired, his head was foggy, all he was really certain of was just how much he adored this beautiful creature before him.

"I'd better get going." She turned, slipping her hand free, and stood up.

He nodded, less than convincingly, but didn't stop her, no matter how sorely he was tempted. He expected to watch her walk away, but she stopped, held out her hand to help him up. He hadn't been about to get up, and he didn't need help to do so, but he took her hand. It was time to rely on someone again, to re-learn how. He was going to need to practise.

She held tight and leaned back, to counter balance, and he stood up right in front of her, tantalizingly close. He held her hand tight. With his other hand he tilted her face. Despite all this, his kiss still caught her off guard. It was soft and breathy and passionate. She swayed on her feet and took hold of his arms. She felt like she was falling and remembered where they were.

"Neil," She murmured between kisses. Stopping this by her own will alone seemed impossible.

He clamped his mouth to hers, held her tight, and then let her go. He stepped away and smiled. "You're safe now."

She shook her head and then went inside. She knew one thing for certain, she was not safe at all.


	6. Chapter 6

Christy was tired. As soon as the children went home for the day, she sat down at her desk and watched them run across the fields and disappear into the forest. She had a pile of marking to do and and the room needed some tidying, but she just wanted to sit right there and watch the light fade.

The school was getting cold, without sixty or seventy children buzzing with energy. Rebuilding the fire was beyond her. With a sigh, she stood up, still looking out to the mountains.

She imagined Neil, cantering over the rise on Charlie, then shook her head, summoning resolve to finish do what she needed to do – straighten the third row, clean the blackboard, clear her desk, collect her marking. Then she could go back to the mission house and sit in front of the fire and focus on marking, fortified by several hot cups of tea.

She turned away from the view, and there he was, standing at the side door, a bouquet of wild flowers in his hand. She smiled, took a step toward him.

"I wanted to thank you," he held out the flowers, "for what you said at Aunt Hattie's."

She took them, barely looking at the flowers because she couldn't tear her eyes of him. "Thank you."

He smiled.

"It's so strange that you're here. I was just sitting here, imagining you riding across the field."

"I came from the other direction. I was checking up on Toot McHone."

"How is he doing?"

"Better. It's a gradual improvement."

She nodded. "Good."

He watched her. It was almost unnerving.

"What?"

"Can I give you a hand with anything?"

"Ah," she looked around, sighed, then nodded, "actually that would be great. I'm just out of energy today."

"That comes as no surprise to anyone except you. Those children would wear out a machine."

She nodded, "You want to straighten the desks or clean the blackboard?"

"I got the desks." He strode up the aisle and began.

She watched him for a moment before turning to the blackboard. It felt so much easier with someone else. She knew she could ask one or two of the children. They would happily help. But it was getting dark so early these days. There was only another two weeks of school before the Christmas break. Between the icy frosts and the fading light, she hated the thought that any of the children might get into trouble on their way home.

"What next, teacher?" Neil sat on a desk in the front row.

"Want to mark a pile of essays?"

"No chemistry tests? Biology assignments?"

"Sorry. We have, 'a holiday tradition that is important to me...' and 'a holiday tradition that is significant in American history', that's the older grades, and from the little 'uns, we have, 'my family celebrating my favourite holiday', pictures with captions!"

He smiled at her, adoringly. "I don't know the first thing about grading papers, or art," he picked up one of the pictures, "But I'll admit to wishing I'd had a teacher like you at school."

"I'd say you did all right, Doctor." She collected work up and cleared her desk.

He gave a single nod, "And, on second thoughts, for your sake, I'm glad you don't have a student like I was."

"Were you a prankster like my third row boys?"

"Ah, so that explains the desks. Let me guess – Sam Houston, Zac Holcombe, and Creed, the incorrigible, Allen."

"Why, how did you guess?" She picked up her things and then put the flowers on top, "Thank you, they're lovely."

He stood, eyes glued to her face, and nodded slightly. "I'd better let you get on with it then. Sounds like you have quite an evening ahead of you."

"At least this is done. Starting the day with a clean and tidy class room really makes a big difference. If you hadn't come in when you did, I think I would have been doing it first thing tomorrow."

"Any time." He gave her a nod and headed down the aisle.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N – I'm hoping to get this finished soon, before national novel writing month, in November. There's probably one more chapter to go, so if you have any desperate requests, please share them. I've had lots of requests for a conclusion to 'Forbidding Mourning', but I think it is pretty much finished. What follows seems predictable, inevitable, and I don't think it particularly needs telling. Perhaps if there is some particular part of the resolution you really want to see, tell me about it and I'll see what I can pull together :)

Amy

Alice smiled her welcome on Christy's entry to the kitchen. "Did one of the children give you those?"

Christy held a pile of books, and Neil's flowers lay on top. "Ah, no." This was awkward. Honesty seemed best, but unnerving, nonetheless. "Neil brought them."

Alice stopped. "Oh."

Christy was about to say, 'It's just a bunch of flowers,' but that wouldn't be entirely true. Instead, she said, "There's nothing to worry about, Miss Alice."

"Isn't there?"

"We would, neither of us, ever do anything... anything we shouldn't."

"That's not what worries me."

"Then what?" Christy put down the pile on the kitchen table.

"You could both be hurt by this."

Christy nodded. "Perhaps it's inevitable." She sighed, "What's the alternative?"

"What do you mean?"

"We fell in love." It was so strange to say out loud, but there it was. "I don't know why, or when. It certainly wasn't planned. I don't even know if it could have been avoided."

Alice nodded, not completely convinced, perhaps, but accepting the possibility. "So you've spoken. This is acknowledged between you."

Christy nodded.

"Perhaps that is for the best. Not that honesty will necessarily make life any easier."

"No, but-"

Alice interrupted, "You don't need to assure me of anything, Christy. I know you, and I know Neil MacNeil. I am only concerned about thy heart."

Christy couldn't help but be warmed by Alice's concern, which all but mirrored her own. Christy was all too aware of how much danger her own heart was in. But there was nothing to be done.

And there was lots to be done – work, marking, planning. All that.

"Well," Christy put the flowers in a cup of water, "I have more marking than I'm ever going to get finished before I fall asleep."

"You do look tired. Are you well?"

Christy nodded and went through to the lounge.

The mission was traditionally home to anyone in the cove who would be otherwise alone at Christmas. David was in Boston with his family, so only Alice, Ruby Mae and Christy were staying at the mission. Dan Scott had also decided to visit his family for the holiday.

Neil brought Hattie down in the middle of the day on Christmas eve. She would stay overnight and stay warm, returning to her cabin a couple of days later. The living room fire roared and Ruby Mae kept the conversation nearly-constant. Christy fingered out a few christmas carols on the piano and Aunt Hattie sang. Alice served up spiced sweet tea and Neil sat in the background, watching, listening, occasionally stoking the fire.

A couple of other cove-residents had been invited, but had not shown up. Finishing his cup of tea, Neil stood, restless,

"I might ride out while it's still light and see if anyone's heard from Ben Pentland."

"He'll have stayed behind for the weather." Miss Alice said.

"He was going to collect Granny Barclay. I won't go far, and the weather hasn't set in yet. I'll be back before supper."

In his absence, the rest of them got right into a roaring sing-a-long. There were carols and mountain melodies and then the half-dozen tunes Christy had learned properly on the piano.

They only stopped to prepare supper. Christy and Rube Mae had planned a modest feast and insisted Alice keep Aunt Hattie company, by the fire.

Once Christy had put the potatoes in to roast, she looked out at the dull afternoon. It was snowing lightly. The mission house lights lit up the falling flakes.

"The Doc'll be all right." Ruby Mae caught her, accurately guessing the reason for her distraction. "He knows these mountains better'n the back of his hand." She went on to discuss the validity of the saying, and whether or not she knew the back of her own hands very well at all, but Christy only half-listened.

She stepped aside so Ruby Mae could rinse off the dishes.

"I can finish up here, Miz Christy. You go back in by the fire."

Christy was happy to be free from observation. She knew Ruby Mae was correct, it'd take more than a little snowfall to get Neil into trouble out there, but still, she couldn't shake the feeling that all was not well.

In the lounge, Alice and Hattie were deep in conversation, the bible open on Alice's knee. Christy paused on the threshold and decided to take a moment alone while it was available. She went up to her room, wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, then stepped out onto the verandah. From here she could see further than from the kitchen. But no one was in sight.

Last time she'd imagined him riding over the horizon, he'd appeared at her side, as if she could will his appearance any moment she wished it. She tried it, imagining his arrival, then turned, hoping, half-expecting, to see him standing at her bedroom door, watching her like the oddity she was.

This was ridiculous. She sighed, returned inside, keeping her shawl around her shoulders, and collected a book to take downstairs with her. She was half way down the stairs when the front door swung open.

Granny Barclay hobbled in, followed by Ben Pentland.

"Where's Doctor MacNeil?"

They both looked confused.

"He went to look for you."

"He didn't find us," Ben Pentland helpfully replied.

"Don't you worry m'dear," Granny Barclay patted her arm, "That boy'll be back here in time for supper or I'm a maid of twenty."

Christy couldn't help but smile at that. She showed them through to the lounge and offered tea.

Alone in the kitchen, she waited for the pot to boil, looking out the window all the while. She couldn't tear her eyes away. It was silly. Ruby Mae and Granny Barclay were right. It was still at least an hour till they'd eat. Neil wasn't even late. There was no reason at all to worry.

But then she saw him, cantering up the hill toward them.

She grinned, relieved, then touched the kettle. It was still cool to the touch. She had time. She went out the back door to the stables, her excuse being to let him know that their visitors had arrived.

Neil was standing beside Charlie, brushing him down and drying him off.

Christy watched for a minute, reassuring herself that he was completely fine. "They're here," she said by way of greeting.

He turned.

"Granny Barclay and Ben Pentland arrived just before you did."

"Oh, good."

"I was starting to worry." She confessed, stepping closer.

"Ah, you were watching out for me." He smiled, then went back to looking after Charlie.

"I just glanced out the window once or twice."

He chuckled.

She took some grains and fed his horse. "All right, maybe more than twice."

"I'm not complaining."

"Just teasing." She translated. "But you're back, safe and sound. I was just about to make some more tea."

"Sounds perfect. Good timing then." He threw a second blanket over Charlie and secured it.

"You couldn't get back soon enough for me."

He smiled, finishing up, then turned to her. "It's nice to be missed."

She reached out and took his hand, pulling him toward the house. His hand was cold so she covered it in both of hers, "You need a hot cup of something to warm up your hands."

He squeezed her hand. "I don't know. This is quite effective."

"But I can only do one hand at a time."

"I have a pocket." He put his other hand in his pocket, then pulled it out again to hold the railing of the stairs.

They paused before entering the house, savouring this brief moment alone together.

Neil put his other hand to her warm cheek. "There you go, both hands." He grinned, cheekily.

She turned her head and huffed warm breath on his fingers.

He shivered at the sensation.

"Sorry, we should get you inside and warmed up."

"I'm not shivering from cold, Christy."

"You're not?" She was caught by his eyes.

He shook his head, "The effect you have on my nervous system," he stepped closer, "is hard to explain scientifically." He ran his fingertips up the back of her neck, clearly attempting to make her shiver as well.

She tensed at the strange sensation.

"Don't do that," he pressed his thumb into the muscle in her shoulder and she tried to relax, pushing her shoulders down and back. He swallowed and she saw his Adams apple bob.

She wanted to feel his neck, to touch that spot. He was touching her neck, after all. It seemed fair. She grazed the back of her fingers against his throat. The skin was so soft and warm and inviting.

He teased his fingertips up into her hair and then down to the seam of her dress at the top of her back, and then he got the response he was hoping for.

She lifted her shoulders and laughed. "I see what you mean. I'm all goose-bumped." She rubbed her arms. "Shame you've already got such a vital research topic. You might have pursued the nervous system instead, and found the true cause of that particular type of shiver."

"I think I'll pursue this in a less scientific manner." He pressed his lips to her jaw, near her ear, then trailed down her neck. She shivered again, but instead of laughing and shrugging it off, she groaned. He kept going, further around her neck, further down, and then up to her cheek, her temple, her forehead.

He stopped, eyes dilated, and rested his forehead against hers. "You are so incredibly beautiful."

"Can you hear that?" She held her hand to her chest.

"Hear what?"

"My heart – it might just beat right out of my chest."

He held his hand firmly to the side of her face, and reciprocated her honesty, "I feel giddy, like I'm spinning in circles."

He felt rather than saw her slight nod in reply. Her eyes were half shut. She lifted her hands to his chest, steadying herself against him.

He touched his lips to her cheek, tauntingly close to her open mouth. He went to kiss the same spot again but she couldn't resist another moment and turned her face, kissing him with unhidden need, inhaling, and finding his mouth increasingly familiar and oh, so inviting.

He wrapped his arms around her and she was enveloped in his warmth, except for his cool hand on her neck. She shivered again, moaning against his mouth, which seemed to unleash something in him.

At the same moment the kettle sung out, it's shrill call coming to a hasty crescendo.

Neil stepped, back, out of breath.

Christy burst into the kitchen, relieved to find no one else in there, and grabbed a rag to protect her hand, removing the kettle from the element.

Neil shut the door behind her and she turned to find herself still alone – he'd stayed outside.

She smiled to herself, pressed her lips together, and willed her heart and breath to slow down. Getting the tea things together was a welcome distraction.

Neil let himself in a minute later, "I just needed a moment." He closed the door and leaned back against it watching her.

She smiled up at him. "That's quite all right."

"Can I give you a hand?"

"Certainly," She handed him the ready tray and indicated the way to the lounge.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Apologies for the long silence. We moved to France. Yep. Been a little crazy. But hopefully I can get this wrapped up soon. As for my other stories: I think they are finished. If there's a particular aspect of one that you feel is really unresolved, let me know and I'll have another look. Please be specific :)

* 8 * 8 *

Walking out into the first day of spring, and out of view of the school house, Christy breathed a sigh of relief. She'd been inside far too much lately, due predominantly to the weather; weather and mood. Her mood had been flat, or if she was totally honest, low.

Waiting was exhausting. With no end in sight, and no clear picture of what she was waiting for, it seemed interminable. She tried to focus on the children, on her work, and succeeded some of the time.

She saw very little of Neil. It was probably for the best. Twice, he had shown his face at church. She knew it must be difficult, being the object of such speculation and interest for doing something as ordinary as attending church. She could hardly blame him for avoiding it most of the time. He'd been by to stock the mission's medical supplies, and she'd seen him at the Spencer's once, another time at the McHone's, and for one lesson at the school.

She'd been nervous that day, fearing herself as much as Neil, if they were left alone after the children went home. Miss Alice's vote of confidence was cold comfort. Christy knew that there was a line, be it ever-so-blurry, which might easily be crossed without intent. When he arrived for his lesson, she hadn't seen him for two weeks. Her stomach knotted under his gaze. Her mouth went dry when he grinned at her; she was all too aware of how he affected her.

But sunshine and the view across the mountains lifted her out of her funk. She took a deep breath of cold mountain air, stretched her arms up above her head, and remembered that she'd been fine before all of this had happened. It was possible, no matter how hard to believe, that she could be fine again, even if everything went pear-shaped.

And it wasn't everything. Just one friendship; one very important friendship. But just one friendship. One person.

She sighed, unconvinced, and let her arms dropped to her sides. A good walk might help.

She wound her way through the trees and up a familiar path to one of her favourite views. Heading back, a while later, she could see most of the way back to the mission. She saw Neil coming long before he reached her. She could avoid him if she really wanted to. Making up her mind was a challenge. She continued on her route, hoping certainty would come to her.

"Christy!" He spotted her and called out.

She waved, then walked on to meet him. Too late to escape now.

"Alice said I'd find you out here."

"You found me."

"Were you hiding?"

She smiled. "Not well."

"You don't mind some company?" He seemed anxious, hesitant and restless at once.

"Not at all."

They continued walking down the mountain but veered off the direct path back to the mission, meandering along the side of a small stream. Further down it fed into the river.

Christy was loathe to break the silence, but he'd come in search of her for a reason and he might be waiting for her to ask. "Was there a reason you were looking for me?"

"Would you believe just the pleasure of your company?"

She laughed.

"No, there was something." He sighed, slowed, then stopped walking.

She watched him, waiting.

"I got a letter today." He sunk his hands deep in his pockets. She half expected him to pull out said letter, but no. He hesitated to say more.

There was only one subject that made him hesitate like that. "From Margaret?"

He shook his head. "From my lawyer." He smiled an irrepressible smile. "The divorce. It's done. He said it was relatively uncomplicated, considering all the circumstances." He exhaled, trying to keep control of his clearly confused feelings. "It's done."

Christy smiled, then wondered if she should but couldn't stop it.

He looked at her her. "I'm free."

She nodded, watching him nervously, trying to take it in.

He moved his mouth, as if contemplating several things to say, and then settled on one: "Shall we keep going?" He pointed to the path.

She nodded, relieved. She could keep walking, no problem. She'd known this was coming, she'd even hoped for it, but now that it had happened, she didn't know what to think or say or do.

Neil didn't speak initially either. "I thought you should hear it from me."

"Thank you. Yes, I suppose you'll be the talk of the cove for some time."

"And just when they'd gotten over my darkening the door of the church."

She dared to look over at him and then couldn't pull her gaze away.

"I only hope this won't keep me from my work. People are bound to take it seriously – I mean, it is serious, but I'll be unwelcome in some cabins, at first at least. I just hope no one's put in danger because of some..." He sighed and shook his head.

"Perhaps you needn't tell people. I mean, what difference does it make to any of them?"

"I don't want you tainted if it all comes out at once, Christy. I'll weather this storm – perhaps it won't be so bad."

"I don't think anyone paints you as the villain in this tale."

"Well I certainly deserve some share of the blame, but I suppose you're right. The cove won't necessarily see it that way." He stopped at a fork in the path. "I don't have quite your talent for expecting the best in everyone."

"Talent? I thought it was naivete."

Neil grinned cheekily. "Which way?"

Christy looked across the babbling stream, then down past Neil, back toward his cabin.

"We've a decent way to go even if we cross now, but my cabin's not far. I've not much to offer but a pot of tea. Still, if you'd like."

"I know where we are Neil." She assured him. "Tea would be lovely, but perhaps back at the mission."

He gave a nod and waited for her to pass him. "Very wise."

She laughed, finding her footing on a slippery stone. "Maybe I've just walked a long way today."

"Indeed."

"Maybe we should let one storm pass before walking into another."

"Indeed."

She hesitated in the middle of the stream, trying to determine which route across the stones was least likely to result in wet petticoats.

Neil took another path entirely and leapt up onto the bank, holding out his hand to her.

"Well, I'd have done that too, if I were wearing trousers."

"Of course." He pulled her up to him and kept hold of her hand. "I know you can cross the mountain by yourself. You've nothing to prove to me."

She smiled up at him, gave his hand a quick squeeze and then pulled hers free and continued up the bank. There seemed too little a barrier between them. She didn't trust herself, and he could be entirely unpredictable.

"I've hardly seen you lately, it seems." He broke the silence once they reached a path where they could walk side-by-side again.

"It's been busy."

He nodded.

"And I suppose, if I'm honest, I've kept my distance."

"I thought as much. And now?"

She sighed. "I feel like this shouldn't make any difference, but of course it does."

"It doesn't have to Christy. You've made no promise."

She realised he must be experiencing all the turmoil she felt, and more. They were nearing the edge of the trees. If she wanted a private moment, now was the time. She couldn't let him doubt her, and yet it was all happening so quickly. Only a few hours ago she'd lamented the endless waiting, the interminable, indefinite 'maybe' that had been hanging over her head for weeks, months even. And now it felt too quick.

She turned off the path and sat down on a damp log.

He realised a moment later and followed her. "Are you all right?"

She nodded and stood up again, fighting the desire to pace. "I know things have changed and, no doubt, will continue to do so. I may be," she sighed, "nervous and inexperienced, but my feelings haven't changed – won't change. You've no reason to doubt me. Do you?"

He smiled and shook his head. "None at all. But you'll have to forgive me if I occasionally doubt you, and everything else. Reason aside."

She reached over and took his hand, pulled the glove from his fingers and put it in her pocket. His hands were rough and strong, and yet capable of such delicate, tenderness. She held his hand between the both of hers, and looked at their fingers intertwined, wondering at the strange and wonderful reality before her.

Eventually she looked up at him, wondering at his silence, and was struck by the emotion in his expression. His jaw was tense, eyes swimming with un-shed tears.

He blinked, and moved to turn away.

She let go of his hand. If this was going quickly for her then surely, for Neil, it must be at least as fast – at least as overwhelming.

He stopped mid-escape and smiled. "Shall we continue? To the mission."

She handed him his glove and nodded. "Very wise."


End file.
